


talking

by wisteria (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wisteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then it fell very, very quiet, and it seemed that the fire stopped cackling, and it was just so quiet. It was not comfortable, and it wasn’t normal, not anymore, because they had broken whatever barriers that had kept them silent before. So now, now they just did not want to talk, even if there were things to talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	talking

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty innocent for a “stuck in a cave” thing. Anyways, I feel like once Steve and Tony get past whatever it is in the movieverse that they’ll be really good friends?? Ah…

Tony knew it was just his luck that he would be trapped somewhere—here, in a cave in the middle of wherever-the-hell, with someone like Steve.

With Steve, correction.

Without his suit, without any technology.

Those captors must’ve thought it’d be fucking hilarious to strip them of anything they could use and then drop them wherever the dart hit on the map.

(Tony had said the purge code on his electronics so no information could be found, and Steve only had his cell phone, which was really shitty and had next to no contacts. If those guys wanted to call Fury up, they could be Tony’s guest.)

So Tony and Steve found a nice, quaint cave and decided it’d be their shelter for however long.

“I’m sure S.H.I.E.L.D.’s having a shitstorm down there,” Tony mused, leaning against a wall, “with their golden boy gone. Again. I bet Coulson’s crying.”

“Tony.” He said, tone laced with warnings, with “ _don’t press further”_ s, so Tony kept his mouth shut. They’d have plenty of time to argue later anyways, while they were still cooped up together, in whevever-the-fuck. They’d need a name for this, or something.

Steve was pacing, and pacing, and pacing; he had to have worn some of the ground already, and they’d only been there an hour, tops. Sometimes he’d stop and nervously twiddle his wrists or fingers, or pat his back as if his shield had magically appeared there.

They’d been taken from a meeting, which they were both secretly thankful for: the kidnappers didn’t have the shield, and they didn’t have the armor. That also meant that they couldn’t do very well with fighting back, and even though Steve had socked all of them at least once, they didn’t seem to care. Steve even head-butted one, when they tied his hands behind his back. The guy passed out and Tony would be lying if he said it wasn’t impressive.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony said, flicking pebbles off his knees, “you think we’re still in America, right?”

Steve shrugged and went to the entrance of the cave and looked out. “Probably. The plane ride really wasn’t that long.”

“And I doubt that clusterfuck of a plane could’ve made it all the way across the ocean. I mean, seriously, there were so many things wrong with that piece of shit I almost wanted to fix them. Okay, I did want to, but it’s like a craving. Whatever.”

Steve smiled a bit at that, at Tony’s ramblings, but he only let himself talk too much because he forgot who he was with. Then Steve promptly straightened his face and looked out again. “They dropped us in a forest, so it probably really won’t be all that difficult to find things to eat.”

“They really weren’t trying that hard, huh? To hurt us or anything, I mean.”

“We couldn’t have been what they really wanted, a diversion, maybe,” Steve said, finally sitting against the cave wall adjacent from Tony. “Or maybe they just didn’t want to have to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. on them and dropped us somewhere, thinking that’d make S.H.I.E.L.D. back down.”

“Let’s just agree that no matter what they’re planning, they weren’t—aren’t—all that intelligent.”

They both chuckled wryly and then settled into what some would call an _uncomfortable silence_ but what they would call _normal._

It had been a fair enough amount of time since “the showdown” (as they have all been kindly referring it to as) and even though Tony and Steve held mutual respect for each other, they held little else. They worked well as a team with the team, they made strategies that (for the most part) were excellent and balanced—a good amount of recklessness with a good amount of sanity, of precision. They were nearly always successful in their endeavors, and in keeping their team tightly knit.

Fury had even said he was impressed with their team dynamic, which was a feat if they’ve ever had one. And they have had tons.

So they respected each other—well, Captain America respected Iron Man, to be technical. They didn’t hang out much outside of things that were mandatory, and they never hung out for things that weren’t with the team. They wouldn’t go to sports games, or watch movies, or anything. They hardly talked, actually.

…They never talked if it wasn’t necessary.

It felt weird to them both to be sitting in a cave, in wherever-the-hell, and for them to be talking. Of course, it wasn’t of things that were casual, but it was still peculiar, still foreign.

Because Tony still remembers Howard searching, the lines that engraved themselves on his face, like ruts from pacing; he remembers how his father used to pace, in short, stubby lines. He paced like he was going to sneak up on someone, like he was afraid he was going to break glass.

Steve’s pacing was in wide steps, and he’d pace the span of the whole room. It made Tony think that he wanted to be in a lot of places at once, that he wanted to spread himself, as if to protect everyone around him. It reminded him of Howard’s pacing in every way it shouldn’t, it just reminded him of it, and that was enough. Tony didn’t pace.

“He looked for you.” Tony said, just because he wanted to see if Steve could draw the lines. “A lot of them did.”

Steve sighed and leaned his head against the wall, tipping his chin up. “I wish they didn’t. It’s—it’s not that I didn’t want to be found, but it was useless. I was gone, as good as dead, and I just wish they could’ve seen that.” His eyes were on Tony, as if he was expecting something, an agreement, a disagreement. A reaction, anything.

“You were their friend, Steve.” Was that the second time he’d called Steve by his name, or the third? Tony huffed and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. “If there was any hope for you they were going to look.”

“They should’ve been living their lives, not trying to save mine.”

Tony didn’t say anything after that, because he knew Steve was right. Finding Captain America became Howard’s life, even after Tony had come along. Steve wasn’t really what Tony was expecting, but Captain America lived up to the bill. Big muscles, strong face, winning smile, great fighter, good man, all around perfect, blah, blah. But Howard painted Steve in such a light that he didn’t seem all that human, when he really, really was.

Whenever the Avengers had to stay together in a certain place, like the Mansion or something similar, he’d do enough human things to reciprocate for the rest of them. He’d drink milk straight from the carton (and then get super embarrassed if he was called out on it; later, there would always be six or seven milk cartons there, as if to make up for it); he’d forget where he left the remote, and tear up the whole room trying to find it when it had really been next to the T.V. (but then he’d pick everything up and clean, if he had the supplies available); he’d cook meals and then forget to load the dishes in the dishwasher (but if he forgot, he’d do them by hand, so people could use them right away again). So Steve _was_ human, Tony thought, he was just a really, really good one.

It pissed him off sometimes, because Steve was really great at reminding him of everything that was wrong with him without saying anything. It was his selflessness that Tony squinted at, because there was absolutely no question, he’d die for anyone. Even when Tony would risk his life, there’d be one tiny, tiny sliver of _you’ve got a lot to live for, too._ For Steve, it wouldn’t matter if he was the President of the world, he’d die for anyone who needed dying for. Hell, Steve would die for anyone on the team, he’d even die for Tony.

That thought always made Tony mildly uncomfortable, because he knew he’d die for Steve, too. And they hardly knew each other, aside from files and assumptions, from reading comics (in Tony’s case) and from resemblance (in Steve’s case). And Steve was nothing like Captain America in the comics Tony had read (his eyes were still blue, his hair still blond, but all he ever did was fight) and Tony was—well, in certain ways, he was just like Howard, and in other ways, he was the opposite.

“I don’t like rodents.” Tony said, out of the blue, because why not, why not at least get to know him. Then Tony could hate him as much as he wanted and no one could say he didn’t try.

“Uh?” Steve had shifted up so he could lean closer, as if his super-hearing didn’t pick up on what Tony had said.

Tony shrugged. “I just don’t like ‘em.”

Steve nodded. “I don’t really have an opinion on them, but if someone gave one to me, I’m not sure I’d be willing to keep it.”

“Shit, Steve, that was probably the kindest way to say you don’t like them.”

“Yeah. I know.” And then he smiled and stood up, waving for Tony to follow him. Then they stood and stared out at the landscape which, if Tony wasn’t in a fucking cave with nothing to do, he would’ve found lovely. “So, really, this seems like a lush enough landscape. It’s mountainous but we’re low enough to where it’s still warm, and there are trees and bushes. I figured we could go out and scope around until the sun starts to set, and tomorrow we could try to find food?”

Tony shrugged and nodded. “Sure, whatever, let’s go!”

“You seem rather enthusiastic.”

“It’s just because caffeine and electronic withdrawal hasn’t set in yet. You just wait.”

***

They ended up setting up two fires, one on the lip of the cave as a signal fire, and a bit further in, as to ward of animals.

“I’m not the biggest fan of cats,” Steve said, when they were sitting. He had taken off his shirt (while blushing, of course, because all he does is blush) and was using it as a pillow. “I mean, they’re okay, but they’ve never really liked me. I used to get scratched a lot by the landlady’s cat, that thing was a damned devil.”

Tony laughed, a good laugh, a real one. “I think I could have a cat, maybe, if I didn’t have to see it. I think dogs are pretty great, though.”

“Mhmm, I love Golden Retrievers. Sturdy breed.”

“Tell me, Captain America, why am I not surprised?”

“Because everyone loves Golden Retrievers?”

“They’re basically America’s dog, I mean, really. Of course you’d like them, Cap,”

Steve snickered and raised a brow before staring back into the fire. “You know, Tony, I’m surprised. You’re doing pretty well without any technology at all.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been left to worse conditions.”

And then it fell very, very quiet, and it seemed that the fire stopped cackling, and it was just so quiet. It was not comfortable, and it wasn’t normal, not anymore, because they had broken whatever barriers that had kept them silent before. So now, now they just did not want to talk, even if there were things to talk about.

Steve doesn’t know the whole story, but no one knows the whole story, because Tony won’t tell it. He’s told the important things, the stuff they needed to know, but there are things he kept to himself, things he always will. The file was very bare in talking of what happened, as per Tony’s request; it just detailed that he had been taken, and that it was where he required the need for the arc reactor. It had a very blanch description of what the arc reactor was (“The arc reactor is something that keeps Anthony Stark alive. It stops the shrapnel from reaching his heart. If it is taken out, he could die. The reactor is important.”) and that was the end of that.

But Tony knows all of Steve’s story, because he’s heard it from everyone. Because his father told it, because the comics told it, because the file told it. He’s read about Steve as if he was a fairy tale, he’s read and heard the different versions—the ones that end happy (“and then Steve came out from the airplane, found Peggy, and married her!”), the ones that end sadly (“Steve Rogers, or Captain America, is still missing after he drove a plane down in the arctic to save millions of lives…”), and the one that hasn’t ended, the one that’s sitting from him across the fire.

Steve looked at him, right then, as if he could read his mind; the one that was breathing, staring, with his face unreadable. He bit his lip, as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something, and looked down again. “You don’t have to answer this, really, I know it’s a bit of an infringement, but you kept a lot of what happened hidden, right?”

Tony nodded slowly, and kept his eyes trained on the fire.

“I wish I could’ve.” And he said it thoughtfully, as if he was thinking of what it would’ve been like to have kept secrets. “Maybe then, I wouldn’t have to fill my own shadow.”

At that, Tony cocked a brow, because Captain America was tall enough to where he could nearly fill anyone’s shadow, figuratively and literally. “What?”

“It’s hard to top the shit I’ve done.” He shrugged after that, and picked up gravel and rubbed the pebbles between his fingers.

Tony wanted to write down that it was the first time he had ever heard Steve curse aside from ‘damn’. “Well, I think you’re doing a pretty good job of being Captain America, so fuck shadows and fuck trying to top stuff. I think, really, the only way for you to top what you did was die, and that’d suck, so.”

Steve looked very surprised at that, and it took Tony longer than he wanted for what he had said to sink in. He smiled crookedly, because at least it was true.

“Yeah,” Steve said, drawing out the word, “Thanks, Tony. And if it’s worth anything, Iron Man’s always been pretty impressive.”

Tony waved him off.

“But,” Steve started, putting his shirt on the floor so he could lie down, “I think Tony Stark can be great, too. It’s nice to finally see that, you know.”

“Steve, you haven’t seen anything yet.” And then Tony waggled his eyebrows and put on a devilish smile, because why not.

Steve scoffed. “Goodnight, Tony.”

***

Tony was woken up by yellow light, piercing into his lids; it was S.H.I.E.L.D., bearing flashlights, looking nice and crisp and as frazzled as ever. There was a lot of shouting and Tony clamped his hands over his ears.

“I just fell asleep, you inconsiderate—oh.” He smiled innocently at Phil, who had woken him. “Phil, man, great to see you!”

“Where’s Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Where is Steve Rogers, Tony.” That was an order, most certainly.

Tony stood, wobbling a bit, and then looked around. “I don’t know, he fell asleep and everything before me so he was here, I swear.” Tony surveyed his surroundings—about ten agents, and he could hear a helicopter (or two?) just outside. “That was pretty quick, finding us. I’m quite impressed, really.”

Coulson did not look like he was in the mood to talk, so Tony made up for his silence by blabbering.

“I’m sure he just went to get some food or something, I dunno. It’s _Steve_ , Coulson, you can’t really be worried about him.”

“Oh, god, you were worried?” And fuck, of course Steve was gathering wood and sticks and twigs for signal fires.

Coulson straightened up. “No, Captain. But it’s time to go.”

“Riiight,” Tony said, nudging Steve in the side. Steve nudged him back, only mildly confused, but he was smiling.

Coulson’s face was near next to priceless as he turned on his heel, leading them out.

Tony and Steve raised brows at each other and followed him out quickly.

“So I figured, if you’re hungry, we could go to this really great place once we get back to New York. It’s pretty new, but whatever, I think you’ll like it.”

Steve nodded, smiling. “That sounds great. But… Can I shower first?”

“No one’s gonna stop you, Cap.”


End file.
